


Volunteer

by RedTeamShark



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Pet Shelter, volunteering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-07-29 03:15:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7668052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedTeamShark/pseuds/RedTeamShark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The next time Gavin forced him to come along for a volunteer project, Michael was probably going to straight-up murder him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Volunteer

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to http://bunceglackbooshglaowbip.tumblr.com/

At precise six-thirty-seven on Saturday morning, Michael’s phone rang. The ringtone alone was fair enough warning that he shouldn’t answer it, but considering he’d been getting text messages every five minutes for the last half hour or so, ignoring the ringing would be pointless. If he didn’t respond to Gavin’s attempts to contact him soon, his best friend would just come over, and of course Michael’s mom would let him in to go wake up her sleeping son.

Denise fucking loved Gavin. Of course.

Rolling over and cursing his best friend, Michael groped blindly for his phone, feeling over books and dirty socks until he came across the steadily vibrating object. Eyes still closed, he pressed the button to answer the call, pulling the phone under the pillow with him.

“The hell do you want.”

“Michael!” Gavin positively _squeaked_ with joy, and the half-asleep teen felt the beginnings of a migraine. “We’re supposed to go to the animal shelter today for community service project, remember, you silly sausage?”

Michael’s face screwed up as he tried to process the words from ‘Gavin-speak’ to ‘normal English’ to ‘simple things a tired Michael understands’. He got about as far as ‘that motherfucker has already had at least two Red Bulls’ before more words were issuing from the speaker of his phone.

“Geoff is picking you up from your place at seven and you better be ready, you donut. He says that he’s not going to wait for me to get you out of bed once we get there, so you better be awake and ready to go or else Geoff’ll be really minged off at _me_ and you don’t want that, right, Michael my lad?”

“Slow the fuck down.” The auburn-haired boy muttered, finally sitting up and reaching for his glasses. He switched the phone onto speaker as he pushed them on, looking around his room for some clean clothes. “You’re on speaker now, dumbass, so keep it down in case Denise is still asleep.”

“ _Hi Denise_!” Gavin yelled immediately. Michael groaned.

“She might be asleep, you fucking… you fucking mong!” A cheerful shout of ‘hello, Gavin!’ from the other room assuaged his worries that his overly-excited, idiotic, annoying best friend would wake up his entire household via speakerphone, but it didn’t exactly reduce Michael’s overall irritation. “The fuck did you even volunteer me for?”

“I told you yesterday! We’re going to the animal shelter to help socialize animals and stuff. It’ll be toppity-tippers!”

With a groan, the teen began digging a clean t-shirt and pair of jeans from his closet. The next time Gavin forced him to come along for a volunteer project, Michael was probably going to straight-up murder him. He dressed while still on the phone, hanging up after at least seven promises to be ready to get picked up at seven. Then he went to get a cup of coffee.

“You know,” Michael’s mom spoke up from the living room, where she was enjoying a cup of coffee and watching the morning news, “it’s six-fifty-seven.”

“Motherfucking son of a _bitch_!” The curly-haired teen shouted, deciding to forgo coffee and pray that Geoff would agree to stop at Starbucks. He shoved his coffee cup back onto the counter, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and ran to brush his teeth, hearing the doorbell begin to chime just as he spit out foamy toothpaste.

“Be right there, Gavin!” Michael screamed across the house, hoping to shut the doorbell up. Thank god no one else was home this morning and his mom was used to this sort of behavior.

About three seconds after he decided that he wasn’t going to have time to do anything but shove a hat over his messy hair, approximately fifteen pounds of pure British idiot jumped on him. Michael let out a shout of surprise, stumbling back and almost falling into the shower from the force of Gavin’s exuberance, just barely managing to catch his best friend. He held on for just long enough to be considered a hug, before unceremoniously dropping the sandy-haired teen onto his bathroom floor, emitting a laugh at the way Gavin pouted and rubbed his backside.

“You deserve that. Go make me a sandwich while I put my shoes on, bitch.” With the shit-eatingest grin he could manage at seven-oh-two in the morning, Michael left the bathroom to find a pair of shoes.

“Hey, you’re the bitch, bitch!” Gavin shouted after him. They continued to throw full-volume insults at each other from the kitchen and Michael’s bedroom while the auburn-haired teen jammed a hat over his head and some sneakers onto his feet, finally meeting at the front door. There was a brown lunch bag in Gavin’s hands and Michael only waited long enough to kiss his mom on the cheek and say goodbye—echoed cheekily by Gavin, who also promised to bring him home safe—before he was out the door.

Geoff was behind the wheel of the car idling in the driveway, looking half-asleep and fully annoyed. When Michael climbed in, however, he immediately handed the teen a Starbucks cup. “I figured you might need this,” the tattooed man offered, backing out of the driveway and turning towards downtown.

“Thanks, Geoff.” Michael took a sip, leaning back and closing his eyes. “I don’t know how you handle Gavin every morning, man.” He offered a sympathetic smile, as if the person he were talking about wasn’t sitting next to him in the back seat of the car.

Glancing at the two teens in his rearview mirror, Geoff only offered a shrug. “Mainlining cocaine seems to be pretty effective.”

They bantered on the way to whatever-it-was Gavin had signed them up for, throwing playful insults among the three of them, Gavin and Michael at one point getting into a scuffle that, of course, ended when Michael put Gavin into a headlock and mussed up his hair mercilessly. “Don’t mess with Mogar!” Michael finally declared as he let Gavin go, immediately pointing and laughing at the complete mess the other teen’s hair had become. Gavin looked at himself in the mirror, shrugging and grinning back.

It wasn’t until they actually pulled into the parking lot that Michael bothered to think about where Gavin had volunteered them for, his eyes going wide as he saw just what sort of Saturday this was going to be.

Well, shit.

The Austin Animal Shelter was a simple enough building, clean and almost clinically white on the outside. Wide front windows showed a lobby with a few chairs and a desk on one side of the building. On the other side…

Michael swallowed down quite possibly the girliest noise he’d ever made in his life, getting out of the car and thanking Geoff again for the coffee, only managing a nod and a forcefully controlled smile at the older man’s wish of good luck. His eyes kept darting to the windows on the other side of the building.

There were cats in those windows.

Some played in the morning sunshine, running around on the floor or climbing carpeted towers. Others lay on soft-looking perches, soaking in the early sun and they were probably _so warm_ when a person ran a hand down their soft fur and Michael was really having a hard time controlling his breathing.

He could also hear barking, exuberant and full of a kind of ‘life is amazing you can’t disagree with me’ that only dogs in the midst of play seemed to possess. When Gavin grabbed his wrist to pull him inside, the curly-haired teen nearly jumped out of his skin. His face ached with the careful control he was exerting to not break into a wide grin.

“Michael, come on! Don’t be a rinsey little prick about it, okay?” Gavin yanked him along, into the building. Things were startlingly silent as the doors shut, but through a window to one side of the lobby he could see the cat room and through a window to the other he could see a dog room and—

– _oh my god are those_ rabbits? Michael thought, clenching his fists to keep from bouncing up and down like a small child receiving a present. He shifted from one foot to the other, needing to get his joy out _somehow_ , all of his focus on just following Gavin while the sandy-haired teen explained to the woman behind the desk who they were and why they were here.

“Alright,” the woman nodded, handing a clipboard to each of them. “Just fill out these forms and bring them back up, and then you can start. If you have lunches or anything, you can put them in the fridge in the break room.” She pointed to a door over her shoulder, before continuing. “We have a couple of others from your school volunteering today, too… Lindsay and Barbara I think their names were? They went out with the dogs.”

Michael looked over the form as he took a seat, using the pen to fill it out. Most of it was pretty straight-forward for a school volunteer project—his name, his homeroom teacher, his school ID number. Spotting that one, the teen sighed, leaning over to Gavin and pointing. “671-994-03.” He offered the British teen. Gavin was never able to remember his school ID number, it seemed, and Michael had been forced to remember it for him.

The bottom of the form was a waiver stating that if he was injured as a result of working with the animals, he couldn’t sue. Michael read it briefly before signing off on it. Who in their right mind would sue after _volunteering_ to work with animals, anyways?

The two teens turned in their forms, getting small ‘volunteer’ badges to stick onto their shirts and dropping their lunches off in the indicated break room. Kathleen, the woman behind the desk, offered to give them a tour of the place, but Gavin turned her down. “We’ll explore on our own.” He explained with a grin, turning to Michael and raising his eyebrows. “Where first?”

“Kit—cats.” Michael answered immediately, biting the insides of his cheeks. He’d almost said ‘kitties.’ He really needed to work on his self-control.

Gavin’s hand was around his wrist, the tanned teen yanking him towards the door and into the room full of cats. Meowing immediately surrounded them, along with the smells of fur and cat litter. Michael stood in the doorway as his wrist was released, just taking in the sight. Sunlight from one of the windows fell on the floor and Gavin immediately laid down across the middle of one of the patches of light, looking so much like a cat himself that Michael briefly considered scratching behind _his_ ears.

He was distracted from the thought by the feeling of something batting at his foot. Looking down, he saw a small, fluffy, gray kitten swatting at his loose shoelaces, its hindquarters lifting as one of its front paws batted at the tattered material. With a small mew it pounded, sinking kitten claws into his shoe. When Michael laughed the kitten looked up, trying to sprint away. Its claws scraped the floor, leaving it running in place for a moment before traction seemed to kick in, the kitten charging to the other side of the room in the most direct path possible—a path which happened to send it running over Gavin’s arm.

No longer fighting his smile, Michael carefully sat down on the floor, pressing his back to one of the many free-standing cat loungers. He picked up a cat toy—some sort of mass of feathers on the end of something that looked vaguely like a fishing pole—and grinned mischievously. Gavin’s eyes were closed, his hands idly patting the heads of about six cats that had crowded around him. Leaning over slightly, Michael began to gently bob the mass of feathers over Gavin’s stomach.

It didn’t take long for a kitten to notice them, and Michael watched with barely-suppressed laughter as the tiger-striped kitten crouched, tail twitching. After a few more bobs of the feathers it flung itself forward, landing full-force on Gavin’s stomach and jumping upward from there, snatching the feathers in its paws and yanking them downward. Gavin let out an ‘oof’ of surprise, his eyes shooting open. He followed the trail from the kitten on his stomach to the feathers, up the fishing pole thing and along Michael’s arm, finally locking eyes with his best friend.

“Smegpot!” Gavin exclaimed, pointing at him accusingly. The movement made the kitten on his stomach run, and Michael moved the feathers away from Gavin as the Brit sat up.

“It was pretty funny.” The curly-haired teen admitted, reaching out to let an older cat that had wandered close to him sniff his hand. The cat licked his palm lightly, before rubbing against him, purring loudly.

“Nearly scared the piss out of me.” There wasn’t any sort of real anger in Gavin’s voice, though, unsurprisingly. Who in their right mind would be angry in a room full of kittens?

The teens sat playing with the cats and trading friendly insults for a while, moving around the room to interact with as many different cats as they could. Some seemed truly indifferent, staying in their cages and staring out, backing away whenever one of the teens got too close. Others were almost absurdly excited to have the human company, following the boys around the room and meowing plaintively for attention.

It was close to noon before they finally decided to leave the room, growling stomachs sending them towards the break room. There were two girls with volunteer badges on their shirts, as well as a heavy coating of dog hair. Michael recognized Lindsay from his English class, and figured the other one had to be Barbara.

After some short chatting, the four made their way out to a picnic table at the front of the building, spreading out their lunches and continuing to talk.

“I think my arm is going to fall off,” Barbara noted with a grin. “I played fetch for about two hours before Lindsay finally took over.” Her grin widened. “I was quite _fetching_ , though, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, god, kill me…” Lindsay muttered, shaking her head. “Your puns aren’t funny. You’re a bad person and you should feel bad.”

“Well, this conversation has certainly _gone to the dogs_.” Barbara continued, only stopping when Lindsay held a bottle of water precariously over her head, threatening darkly that she’d spill it.

Michael ate his sandwich, glad to have something besides grinning like an idiot to occupy his mouth with. It was one thing to act like a dork around Gavin—he looked positively _sane_ compared to his best friend—but around two people he didn’t know that well (and girls, at that!) he wanted to appear at least sort of cool.

Any attempts to appear cool were promptly ruined by Gavin, though. Damn him.

“Michael and I played with the cats.” He started after swallowing a mouthful of granola bar. Gavin didn’t eat sandwiches, something about the bread getting soggy if it sat too long and making him sick. “He was the _cutest_ with this little black and white one that fell asleep on his lap. Just sitting there in the sun, looking like a little kitty himself.” One of Gavin’s hands reached out, pinching Michael’s rapidly reddening cheek.

“Aww…” Lindsay grinned widely. “That’s so _adorable_!” She reached across the table, apparently intending to pinch Michael’s other cheek.

“Ow! Hey!” Gavin cried as Michael kicked him under the picnic table, letting go of his cheek and reaching down to rub his ankle. “Prick.”

Deftly dodging the redhead girl’s attempt to assault his face, Michael took another bite of his sandwich, smiling smugly. “What’s wrong with a guy not wanting to disturb a sleeping cat?” He asked, purposely showing Gavin his mouthful of partially-chewed sandwich. Predictably, Gavin turned away to retch. Michael grinned, taking a swig of water and swallowing before turning back to the girls. “You want to talk about being like a cat, I’m pretty sure Gavin _did_ fall asleep in the sun at one point. He’s got the memory of a goldfish, though. I pulled the toy-over-the-stomach thing on him like four times.” That brought laughter from the table, even from Gavin who had somehow managed to get his poor gag reflex under control.

Once their lunches were finished with, the four split off, the girls going into the cat room this time. Michael and Gavin exchanged a glance, before immediately heading towards the outdoor dog play area.

The area was large and grassy, secured by a chair-link fence along three sides and the building on the fourth. About a third of it was shaded by an overhang from the building, the area leading to an inside play space as well as a several food and water bowls. A sign on the door leading outside stated that the dogs playing outside were socialized for both animals and people, but reminded volunteers and workers alike to report any signs of aggression immediately to a supervisor and to not try to break up a fight.

Michael had a hard time subduing a grin.

While cats were nice for cuddling and some quiet play, dogs were definitely his preferred animal. He liked to be able to rough house a little, run around, get loud. He liked the loyalty that dogs had, as well. Cats were independent, but dogs would stick by a person they loved forever.

Such thoughts were pushed out of his mind quickly, however, when Gavin shoved the door open and stumbled out into the yard. Michael followed him, watching as the dogs ran around, a smile forcing its way past his control and onto his lips. Leaning over, he picked up a tennis ball and experimentally tossed it into the air.

There was a barrage.

At least four large dogs ran at him, crowding at his feet and nearly knocking Gavin over as they began to bark, the unanimous vote apparently being that Michael should _throw the ball oh please throw the ball please please please throw it throw it we’ll bring it right back for you really if you just throw the ball_. Giving one more upwards toss to make sure he had the undivided attention of all four dogs—mutts, though one of them seemed to be part retriever—the curly-haired teen cocked his arm back and let the bright yellow tennis ball go sailing to the opposite side of the yard.

The dogs took after it in a pack, again nearly knocking Gavin, who had just regained his footing, to the ground. The Brit cried out, catching Michael’s hand when his best friend offered it out to steady him. They watched the brief tussle for control of the ball before the probably-part-retriever snagged it and ran back with it. This time there were six eager dogs waiting for the throw when the ‘winner’ of the game of fetch dropped the tennis ball at Michael’s feet.

Keeping an eye on the dogs to make sure none of them wanted to pick up the ball first, Michael knelt down and lifted it again. He held it up for all to see, making a fake throw and smiling wide when not one of the animals fell for the old trick. He threw for real a second later, laughing aloud at the way the dogs turned in a group and sprinted after the ball.

He played like that for at least an hour, understanding what Barbara meant about a sore arm. The yard was sizeable and while he threw the ball different distances each time, it was still tiring. He wasn’t sure how someone could do that for two hours. There being several different dogs didn’t make matters much easier—it seemed that every time one got tired of the game, a new one would notice what was happening and join in.

Gavin had wandered off after maybe ten minutes, sick of nearly being knocked off his feet with every round of fetch. Michael finally tired of the game and walked away after throwing the ball, sitting himself down on a sun-warmed bench near the building. It was a little quieter on this side, most of the dogs content to lay alone or in pairs, enjoying the warmth of the sun without exerting themselves. As he settled down, a dog approached him, walking slowly and a bit stiffly. The curly-haired teen tensed slightly, wondering if the stiff-legged walk was a sign of aggression, before realizing that it was simply the walk of an old dog who’s joints were a bit stiff. He offered his hand when the dog approached, letting himself be sniffed, not moving to pet the animal until he’d gotten an approving lick. With no hesitation, the dog sat on the ground next to him, its head lying in Michael’s lap. The teen continued to pet the dog, gently rubbing its ears.

“Female, right?” Gavin’s voice beside him made him jump slightly. Since when could his best friend be so quiet?

“Yeah, I think so.” He agreed, lightly rubbing underneath the animal’s muzzle. “I didn’t, uh, get a good look, you know?”

“Yeah.” Gavin reached over, letting the dog sniff his hand, petting her head lightly after he was licked. “I was in with the puppies. Talk about high-energy.” He laughed a little, holding up his arm to show several small scratches. “And not all of them are gentle. Better than your fetch-beasts, though.”

Michael offered the most saccharine smile he could muster. “Poor Gavvy, getting bullied by a bunch of dogs.”

“Yeah, yeah, come off it, prick. Anyways, Geoff’s coming by in about half an hour to pick us up. We should probably get ready to go.”

“Alright.” Neither teen moved, though, Michael still lightly stroking the old dog’s head. Silence filled the space between them, comfortable and as warm as the mid-afternoon sun. They both spoke again at the same time.

“Michael, if—“

“Gavin, we—“

Laughter, quiet but genuine, before Michael nodded. “Go ahead. Being quiet makes you burst, I know.”

“We should come do this again sometime.” Gavin spoke in a rush, curling his fingers around the edge of the bench. “I mean, not just for volunteer hours for school. It was fun, and… and you had fun, right?”

“I had a lot of fun…” Michael agreed with a smile, moving his hand and watching the dog stand and wander towards the shade and water bowls. He stood as well, stretching and lightly brushing dog hair off his clothes. “I wouldn’t mind coming back.” His attention turned to Gavin, brows suddenly coming together in mock-anger. “But if you wake me up at six in the morning on a Saturday for it, I’ll gut you like a fucking fish.”

“But Michael…!” Gavin protested, grinning widely and standing as well. “It’s more fun if we have all day to play with the animals, right?”

Dammit, the other teen had him there. Knowing it was a fight he couldn’t win, Michael just headed back towards the door for inside. “Come on, Gavin, before one of these dogs mistakes you for a twig and tries to bury you out here.” He called over his shoulder, opening the door to the main building. Gavin ran after him, falling companionably into step beside Michael as they headed for the front desk to check out and turn in their volunteer badges.

They sat at the picnic table waiting for Geoff, another comfortable silence settling between them. It was broken just as Geoff’s car pulled into the parking lot, Gavin tugging at Michael’s sleeve and offering him a grin that could only mean trouble. “Michael the cute little animal-lover!” He crowed, jumping up and running for the car. Michael frowned in confusion as he followed Gavin to the car, not understanding what had brought that on until he heard feminine giggles behind him.

Looking over his shoulder, spotting Lindsay and Barbara just leaving the building, Michael shrugged. He gave the girls a wave, before climbing into the car with Gavin, lightly punching his best friend in the arm. “That was the best you could do to try to embarrass me, shithead? Chicks love a guy who loves animals. Makes them think he’s sensitive.”

Realizing how immediately his plan had backfired, Gavin only groaned as Michael and Geoff laughed at his expense.

Yeah, Michael mused as they left the parking lot. He wouldn’t mind coming back.


End file.
